


Slip of the Tongue

by cedarrapidsgirl



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M, Gen, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedarrapidsgirl/pseuds/cedarrapidsgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this is a birthday prezzie for my dear friend Corrie, whose birthday is today. Hope it's a great day! I got this plot tribble a couple weeks ago based on a TOS episode, and there are two lines from it said in this fic. Not telling which ones though. Anyway, I decided it needed an <i>Enterprise</i> twist, so here it is. Also much love to  Aquarius and Annie who need some ENT love lately! Just a quick little fic, unbeta'ed and started and finished quickly. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Slip of the Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a birthday prezzie for my dear friend Corrie, whose birthday is today. Hope it's a great day! I got this plot tribble a couple weeks ago based on a TOS episode, and there are two lines from it said in this fic. Not telling which ones though. Anyway, I decided it needed an _Enterprise_ twist, so here it is. Also much love to Aquarius and Annie who need some ENT love lately! Just a quick little fic, unbeta'ed and started and finished quickly. Enjoy!

Commander Trip Tucker sighed as he sat down at the small desk tucked in an out of the way corner in Engineering. He looked out at the complement of crew working and wondered, not for the first time, if there was any way he could fashion up some sort of door/wall combination and maybe he could have some privacy in his own working area.

It was late into the evening shift on Enterprise, but Trip needed to look over a few reports that Captain Archer had been nagging him about, and the reason he was in Engineering and not in his quarters was because he had a suspicion that Rostov was going to need his help again. There was one conduit that just didn’t want to behave itself, and Trip had worked on it most of the day shift. At shift change he’d gladly handed the problem over to someone else, but of course, when you’re in charge and you know what you’re doing for the most part, you have to be on call. So in his little corner Trip sat.

He picked up his PADD and began to read, but he couldn’t concentrate. He had eaten dinner in the Captain’s Mess with the Captain and T’Pol, and it wasn’t one of his finer moments.

It had started out okay. Chef had made meatloaf and mashed potatoes and gravy for the two men, and T’Pol had something that looked like overcooked broccoli and cauliflower. It looked gross and bland, but T’Pol seemed to approve of it, or at least didn’t mind eating it.

“That looks disgusting, Commander,” Trip said as the meals were revealed and he was pouring the tea for him and the captain. “Tea?” He gestured with the pitcher toward her glass.

“Yes, please, thank you.” T’Pol passed her glass to Trip. “While it is true that my current entree is not aesthetically pleasing, it is sufficient for my nutritional requirements. And I do actually prefer my food to be not as seasoned as you Humans seem do in abundance.”

Trip handed the filled glass back to her. “Well, if you say so. Personally, I say, ew.”

T’Pol said nothing, just raised an eyebrow, and Captain Archer smiled at the conversation. “And I say ‘To each their own’. Ah, meatloaf. Chef sure does know how to spoil us, doesn’t he, Trip?”

“He sure does, sir.” Trip took another big bite of mashed potatoes then swallowed before continuing. “But for me, nothing quite beats mama’s blackened catfish I had growing up. What about you, Cap’n? What was your favorite meal?”

Captain Archer thought for a moment. “I’ll have to say it was my grandmother’s lasagna. I don’t know what she did to it, but something about it, I just loved. What about you, T’Pol? What is your favorite food?”

T’Pol thought as she chewed her mouthful, and then set down her fork. ‘I don’t recall ever having a ‘favorite’ food, but I do prefer plomeek soup when it is available.”

Trip smiled. “Here we go with the bland stuff again, Commander. You need more spice in your life. Or at the very least, what you consume.”

T’Pol didn’t directly answer Trip. “You are, Commander, a sensualist.”

Trip grinned and speared his meatloaf with his fork. “You bet your pointed ears I am,” He shoved the piece in his mouth as Captain Archer choked on his iced tea trying to hold back a laugh.

“What?” Trip said, looking at the Captain as he reached for his napkin, shaking his head and chuckling. “What did I say? Did I say something funny?” Trip looked over at T’Pol, who had merely raised an eyebrow again, although he swore he heard a “Fascinating” under her breath. He looked back at the Captain. “WHAT did I say?”

Captain Archer just smiled at Trip. “I’ll tell you later. Just eat, before you put your foot in your mouth some more.”

Trip was skeptical, but T’Pol’s expression gave away nothing, and the captain managed to steer the conversation into safer territory, along the lines of Shran’s latest escapade that was making its way around the ‘fleet.

But dinner ended abruptly, as Captain Archer got pulled away, as the captain usually does, so Trip had excused himself from T’Pol’s company before he said something else stupid and doesn’t know exactly what it was.

Trip shook himself from his recollections and looked back down at the PADD again. He sure wasn’t getting any of these reports read. He tried to focus when he hear boot steps and someone approaching, then stop. Probably Rostov again, with another question.

Trip was surprised, then, to see T’Pol standing in front of him. She looked around at the buzzing crew around her, and then back at Trip. Did she look nervous? Of course it was hard to tell with her. “Can I help you, Commander?”

T’Pol leveled her eyes at him and spoke. “Yes, Commander. I just wanted to clarify something said at dinner tonight.” She stopped and just looked at Trip. He gestured. “Go ahead...”

She looked away, as if not sure how to say what was next. “You said that you were a sensualist.” Trip looked away, embarrassed. Vulcan’s memories are like elephants, that’s for sure. “But,” T’Pol continued. “You also made a comment about my pointed ears.” Trip’s face burned. Oh, goodness, she was good at making a guy feel bad. “And, I just wanted to say, that in that respect, I am a sensualist as well.”

Trip looked up startled, to see T’Pol looking at him with perhaps the hint of a smile on her face. It was evident in her voice, however. “Vulcan ears are one of the most sensitive parts of the body, Trip. For the females, it can prove to be very.. stimulating. At least for myself. In my experience. Then I become a sensualist as well.”

It clicked for Trip then that the Vulcan ears were a sensitive stimulus erotic zone, and he blushed deeper, looked back down at his desk and hid his face with one hand, hoping that somehow the floor would swallow him up and save him from this embarrassment nightmare. “I-I’m sorry, Commander, if I’ve offended you in some way. I mean, I didn’t know-”

“There is no need to apologize, Commander.” T’Pol interrupted him. “You are not as educated in Vulcan physiology and the psychology behind our sometimes feral desires.” T’Pol didn’t look angry, or sound too much like it either, Trip thought, for which he was grateful. He was still embarrassed, but grateful.

Suddenly T’Pol stood up straighter, which Trip didn’t think existed. “I will not keep you, Commander. I did however want to tell you that I took no offense to your statement, even though you didn’t exactly know what you were talking about. We’re early on in our mission, you will soon learn the ways of diplomacy.”

Trip nodded. Leave it to a Vulcan to talk in riddles and never quite know if they were complimenting you or insulting you or both. “Understood. Thank you, Commander, and have a great rest of the evening.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then T’Pol responded. “And you as well.” Then she turned quickly and exited out of Trip’s sight. Trip looked after her for a minute, then back to his desk and the still unread reports. Another set of boot steps as Rostov came up and leaned again the bulkhead that made the top of the “office”, looking tired and dirty.

“Good news, sir. I think that conduit’s finally fixed. It hasn’t given up any problems for the last two hours.” He looked at Trip for confirmation.

“That is good news, crewman. Keep an eye on it anyway for the rest of your shift, and then when that’s over, give a report to your relief and then hit the sack. And that’s an order.”

Rostov smiled. “Yes, sir. And if you don’t mind my intruding, sir, you look like you could use a little rest yourself.”

Trip thought about it. “You’re right, crewman. I think I’m going to head back to my quarters and retire. If you do need me, you know where I’ll be.”

Rostov nodded as he moved to let Trip stand up and out of the tight space. “Aye, sir. Have a good night.” He went back over an Engineering station, checking the readings.

Trip stretched and looked again at the PADD with reports left to read. He’d leave them for tomorrow. A certain Vulcan had taken over his thoughts, and he needed some time to reflect on them and try to relax.

Like that was going to happen, Trip thought. Fat chance.


End file.
